


Slave to Fashion

by Maeve_of_Winter



Series: More Money, More Problems [1]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Clothing, Culture Shock, Gen, High School, Lacrosse, Old Friends, Wealth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dismissed from their boarding school for arson and vandalism, Taz Devlin and Avery Hollington-Chatsworth enroll in Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slave to Fashion

**Author's Note:**

> You might recall in Mysterious Code that Tad Webster mentioned an athlete and Hawks member named "Matt Devlin." The name was little more than a placeholder, and the character himself never appeared, which is probably why I'm planning a series to expand on his backstory.
> 
> Avery Hollington-Chatsworth, however, is my own creation.
> 
> This fic was inspired by the Jix thread prompt, "New kid at school."
> 
> I welcome constructive criticism on all of my works. If you want to leave a comment, that's perfectly fine, but if you'd prefer to send a message, my email is goldphoenixrising@yahoo.com.

On Wednesday, Avery and Taz will start at Sleepyside High together-- in the middle of the week, of course, so they can ease into the transition. Enduring the full week could very well traumatize them, especially after leaving their boarding school so abruptly.

Taz's father is skeptical (as always) at first, but Avery's parents manage to convince him. Persuasion is one of Blanc Chatsworth's primary talents, especially where it concerns his friend Damien Devlin. Annabeth Hollington, Avery's mother, is away on business, but she still manages to phone Damien and use her Southern charms to win him over to their point of view.

Avery can't deny that he's just the slightest bit anxious-- public school is nothing like anything he's ever done before. To ease his nerves, he tries to formulate a plan on Tuesday night, a routine to make the next morning morning smooth and organized. He's never worn any clothes but a uniform to school, so he starts with selecting an outfit. Yet after scouring the racks and shelves of his walk-in closet unsuccessfully for ten frustrating minutes, he flops down on his California King bed, scowling.

Noting that the time is just after ten, Avery grabs his phone and dials Taz, who answers on the third ring. Probably caught up in Nietzsche or Ezra Pound or some other incredibly boring and overrated philosopher, Avery imagines.

“What do you think these yahoos wear to public school, anyway?” Avery asks in lieu of a greeting.

“I'm just dressing how I usually do.” Taz tells him. “Without color. Tomorrow, it's black biker jeans, black engineer boots, Blackfish T-shirt, and that John Varvatos gradient jacket.”

Avery nods approvingly. He was with Taz when they found the jacket and encouraged him to make the purchase- it fit him well, drawing attention to his lithe form. “What about your eyebrow barbell?”

“Surgical steel, with spikes on the ends,” Taz says. “Right now, I'm trying to decide on some fake metal- it's either gonna be a lip ring, a tongue ring, or a chin stud.”

Avery chuckles. “They'll be be ready to perform an exorcism on you the moment you walk in the door.”

“Isn't that the point?” Taz's smirk is audible in his voice.

“Wear the chin stud,” Avery says decisively. He himself is wondering if he ought to wear his Welton class ring tomorrow.

A pause on the other end of the line, and Taz does not directly respond to Avery's remark. “What are you going to wear? Your Welton Academy uniform?”

“I still think they overreacted by throwing us out,” Avery complains. “Who knew boarding schools took arson so seriously?”

“The arson wasn't directly our fault, but the vandalism, at least partially, was,” Taz points out.

“Hmm.” Avery drops the issue, knowing that Taz is kind of weird about it. “I was thinking of pandering to stereotypes as a wealthy lacrosse player, y'know, with really preppy clothing. But if the rest of the school is wearing flannel and work boots, I might get mistaken for some sort of preacher.”

“God forbid,” Taz comments dryly. “Try being casual. Classic jeans, high-tops, a red shirt, and a jacket-- do you still have that Marc Jacobs varsity one?”

“The black and white one with all the letter patches? Yeah,” Avery says. He walks into his closet, makes a beeline towards the section for red shirts, and grabs the nearest item-- a rust-colored check sport shirt. He ambles over to the back wall, which consists entirely of floor-to-ceiling shoe cubbyhole shelves, and climbs up on the rolling ladder. “For shoes, what about my Zanottis with the metallic python pattern and the gold alligator ornaments?”

“With our luck, they'll think you're a pimp,” Taz informs him, his tone amused. “Try something more subtle.”

Avery snickered as he grabbed a pair of black Ingelmo high-tops with metallic gold accents. “Why, Taz-Boy, I had no idea you were such a fashion guru.”

“I'm not,” Taz replies, “but I figured one of us should appear as a semi-normal human being.”

The sudden bitterness in Taz's voice brings Avery to pause in the midst of rifling through the clothing racks. “You really don't want to do this, do you? Start a new school?”

“Avarice, you know that I'd rather face a firing squad than be the new kid at school.” Taz's voice is tired. “I would have let myself burn to death in that storage shed if I'd known this was my future.”

“Don't say that, Taz.” Avery grips his phone. “Don't ever say that.”

No response.

“You'll have me there with you,” Avery reassures him. “What more could you want? Everything will be fine, Taz-Boy, you'll see.”

Silence reigns on the other line beyond Taz's breathing, but for Avery, that's enough.

* * *

The next morning, Avery's parents allow him to choose the car in which he'll be taken to school, and he selects the midnight blue Cadillac 60-Special. In order to be fashionably late, Avery pretends to be searching for his Jimmy Choo crocodile skin boots, delaying their departure, before his father insists that he leave. Avery does, walking out with the Ingelmo sneakers on his feet.

The chauffeur stops at the Devlin's mansion, modeled after the Pantheon, to pick up Taz. He slides into the leather seat, wearing the outfit he described to Avery over the phone. In addition to his normal eyebrow barbell, Taz has a diamond stud gleaming below his lower lip, and a pentacle on a leather cord around his neck. His spiky platinum blond hair is dyed blue and white, like the bands of a blue onyx gemstone.

“Looking good,” Avery says with approval, and is rewarded with a smile, small but genuine. Smiles from Taz are rare to everyone but him.

A few other students are straggling into the school building when they arrive. The chauffeur drops them off in front of the school, and Avery tells him to be back at five, after their lacrosse practice has finished. Today's their trial day, but Avery knows that he and Taz are guaranteed spots on the team.

The two of them stand before Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School. The building is larger than Avery expected- it might house a thousand students, give or take a few. The design is odd, though-- it's as though some designer in the 70's built a hodgepodge of smaller structures in a hideous, 70's contemporary style and then added a few connecting corridors.

Avery glances at his friend. Taz is not a conventionally emotive person, but the look on his face suggests he's facing his own execution.

“Don't stress about this, Taz-Boy,” Avery orders. “I got your back.” He grips Taz's shoulder. “We'll be fine.”

The panicked expression on Taz's face fades, replaced by his default dispassionate countenance. He nods once. “Let's go inside. We were supposed to be met the principal in his office at eight.”

Avery glances at his Patek watch; it's nearly twenty minutes past. “Good things are worth waiting for.” He puts an arm around Taz's shoulders. “Let's go.”

They walk into the building together.

It suits them, Avery thinks. Best friends, depending on each other as they depart into the unknown. Most of the time, when heroes face their deepest fears or greatest challenges, they are alone, with only themselves to rely on.

Taz and Avery will never be alone. They have each other.


End file.
